We went to Indian food.

Then we went to get Rita’s Water Ice.

This is when the eventful portion of the night began.

Part One

First, at Rita’s, some scraggly meth-hungry hillfolk brought their little rat-tail children to pow-wow by the trashcans while we’re in line. Meanwhile, an old very heavy lady wheeled up in her Jazzy motorized chair and then scooted her cart up to the one child and pointed to a ring of New Orleans-style beads around his neck. She commented that they were lovely beads, then asked him:

“Did your mother do what I think she did to get those beads?”

Meaning, of course, “Did your whore mother show her titties to get you those beads?”

Alternate variation: “Nice Buzz Lightyear toy. Did your mother take it in the face for that? Did she get tag-teamed by two well-hung gentleman on a gym mat? Did she schtup a donkey in Tijuana?”

Part Two

After Rita’s, we wanted to swing by a store or two and look at grills.

On the way, we passed by a Rite-Aid.

As we passed, two cop cars were flying into the parking lot, lights and sirens a-whirl.

Two cops were already rushing out, guns drawn, yelling at someone.

One of the cops was a plainclothes.

We kept driving.

Part Three

On the way home, with lightning crackling in the distance, I drove by and veered away from some kind of road-killed critter.

And then I thought, dang, that animal looked weird.

Like, it had kind of an Ewok face.

And it was the size of a child’s doll, so I thought — y’know, I bet that was a doll.

Still, its little face was kind of haunting.

So, I spun the car around and tried to get a good look from the other direction. No luck. Went to the end of the street, turned around again, and came back for one more curious pass.

The creature was now sitting up.

About, well, in Smurf terms, three apples high.

I figured, fucking Hell, that’s weird. So I stopped, put on my four ways and got out.

Lo and behold: a little owl. Red-headed. Surrounded by some (of its?) feathers.

I thought, hey, this owl’s probably dead. Or dying. He must’ve gotten hit by a car. Except then I started wondering, how the shit does someone drive over an owl? It’s not like owls are known for just… chilling out on the ground. “Hey, whassup. I’m an owl. Suck my dick.”

Still, though, he was sitting up. He wasn’t before.

I stomped my foot next to him just to get a reaction, and he kind of did this quiver-headed bug eyed look in my general direction. So he was certainly alive. I then tapped him in the head, deeply certain that this was the stupidest thing a man could do — I was surely hitting its Claw My Goddamn Eyes out button, and next thing I know he’d have a Kung Fu grip on my cornea.

But no, again, I got the bug-eyed freak-stare.

The wife was out of the car, asking me what’s up — I mean, we were standing in the middle of the road and everything. (Some cars did pass us by, and didn’t give one whit that I was there with my flashers on using my cell phone as some kind of flashlight. Thanks, fuckfaces.)

New plan, I thought. I grabbed the owl delicately by the scruff of the neck. He kicked and his wings went a little wild, but the one didn’t seem to work so well. I deposited him on the side of the road just beyond the guardrail — in the weeds preceding some woods.

Then I got back in the car and the wife (wisely) wanted to make sure the owl was actually okay, because, I dunno, we would play Owl Doctors or Owl Transport System or something.

Pulled over, got back out, found the owl again in the light.

He was just sitting there.

I figured, okay, he’s hit. Those feathers, the wing, this is telling me something — the owl took a bounce and, shit, maybe he’s going to die. So I keep using my iPhone light to look him over, and he’s kind of watching me and following the light and doing this cute little blinky thing. I finally return the light to him and I guess that was just irritating enough because –

Well, he got up and took flight. He flew straight, then up into the woods, and then he was gone.

Way I see it, we irritated an owl just enough to keep him alive.

Go us.

Now I probably am Ground Zero for some kind of dangerous Owl Flu.

Good times.